The Misadventures of Swashbuckler Riley

by Bob Jacob, reprinted with permission from Eileen Andrade, Editor of the KBTCNC Singing' the Blues

The Game

Do we really want another child? Na, let's get a dog. You don't have to change them, they grow old in about fourteen years, and maybe we can outlive them.

So, we choose a Kerry. I knew in advance they were dominant, so did I make the right choice? Is this the dog for me? The answer is, of course, yes. Contradictory, yes, and still true. Is he a challenge? Everyday. Does he demand my attention? Everyday. Do I mind? Never.

It's a job to just watch him looking out the window at birds, or, god forbid, a squirrel or cat. He's so intense, total concentration. I can't even do that.

We have a game we play. I call it, "Who's the boss" and I have to admit, Kelly wins when I get bored and give in. First, our home has a large living room and dining room combination with the sofa as the divider. Kelly will grab one of his toys and jump on the sofa with his paws on the back and then throw his toy over the back into the dining room. Yes, I said, throw. Then I join him on the sofa, kneeling next to him facing the dining room, looking at the toy on the floor. Now he barks, "Go get it!" and looks at me. I look at the toy, then back at Kelly. He is watching me and the toy. He says, "Go get it (bark, bark)." It's really a case of who's going to give in and get the toy. He gets pretty insistent and really lets me have it--bark bark, bark bark bark bark! Then I get insistent, "You go get it. You threw it over there, you get it." He looks at me, then at the toy again. I tell him again, "You go get it." Then he will jump off the sofa and get the toy. What happens next? He's back on the sofa next to me, and throws the toy off the back again, what else? And we start all over again. I'm only glad no one is watching us. I'm afraid a van with men in white coats would come and take one of us away.

The Haircut

Made sense to me, and the price was right, or was it? All I wanted was a trim dog, Kerry cut, low maintenance. I even asked the owner, "Will he look like a Kerry?" The answer, "Yes of course, we hope so." The "hope so" left a little concern in my thoughts for the day. As it was, I should have grabbed my dog and ran, not walked to the nearest exit.

Four hours later I received a call, "We will need to delay your pickup for an hour." Ok, I've heard that before. They are making Kelly perfect. I went to the shop at the prescribed time and they told me they are having trouble with the legs and will be a little late. About an hour later, I got Kelly back. I thought I would have to change his name. It wasn't Kelly. It was a Schnauzer/Poodle something.

I was so dumb-founded I paid the bill and even made appointments for two, mind you, next visits. I still can't believe it.

The only good thing to come out of this affair is that Kelly looks out of both of his eyes at me now when he refuses to come. His beard is shorter, his face hair is mostly gone, he has about one quarter inch of hair on his back, which makes his tail look about twelve inches long. He has saddle bags on each hip. I had to hide the mirrors in the house so he can't see himself. To top this whole thing off, when I brought Kelly out of the grooming shop, a nearby store owner came out and said, "Oh, what a beautiful dog." If I had false teeth, they could have fallen out, my jaw dropped so low. I was speechless, and for me that's going some. Numb is more what I felt. Like you'd feel if your son told you he was going to get married, to a woman with twelve children.

Well, time has passed a bit and thank heaven hair grows back (except in my case). Having said that, I have a bit of advice. Never, never loose a good groomer's phone number. Never, never burn your bridges. You must love, kiss, groom a good relationship. Be kind, do what is expected, listen to, heed warnings, and in general, never disobey this "gold mine" you have in a quality groomer.